We met when I was very young, and I loved her in an instant. Everything about her was magical; the touch of her skin, the words on her lips, and particularly, the way I could talk to her. I could talk to her like I could talk to no one else.

My mother introduced me to her, in the playtime hours of my youth, and I was quickly enamored. She was fun and unique and something I could make all my own. We ran together for hours and hours, laughing and crying and feeling everything life had to offer. Even as I grew older, she was always there, making me squeeze out every bit of life I had in me and make me taste it. She was beauty in sadness, in a world other than my own, but I fought with all my might to spend if only day on her planet. We were not in love, but we loved as if in love, with all our hearts and all our tears. There was not a romance between us, but I was hers. I’d like to think that in some ways, though she was ethereal and grand and far too good for me, I held a little bit of her too.

I never quite knew what led me to her, be it fate or destiny, but once I found her, I knew she was where I belonged. She was home. I could walk a thousand miles, and maybe even a thousand more, but I’d still belong as long as I was beside her.

She’s had many who loved her, over decades and centuries, but somehow she was still innocent and new to me, and while we grew up together, she stole my heart more than I could ever fathom. She was there when my brother died, and those times when I was abandoned by the persons I loved most, and when the shackles of madness caved in on my soul, she was there. There are a few who love me and stand by my side, and I adore them for it, but none stood by my side like her. She has never left me, and I hope she never will.

When I lose my words, I look to her. She is the solace in insanity, the wonder of my wonderland. I can always feel the beating, the hands on the door, begging to break me, to shake me, to destroy all I have ever fought for. It’s in time with the beating my heart, because god only knows it’s my own hands beating. But in the darkness, she holds my hands tight and begs me to stop the destruction and saves me from whatever I am.

I’ve changed many a time throughout my time, hell, I’ve changed at least three times this morning, but she is always there to care for me regardless is I’m up or down, sad or mad, or simply insane. She is a rock, no, titanium, something not weathered much by time, just always there, always watching, always caring.

She is my purpose, she is my soul, and though those statements seem outlandish, I truly believe them. I never would have made it to today if it wasn’t for her. She is my love and my writing. And now, here we are. On the precipice of the universe, and she’s offering me all I could ever dream of. My future was always a mystery to me, but now with my eyes wide open, standing next to her, I know she is my future, and she was my past, and in an odd way she is everything to me, It’s been a complex voyage, true, and I’ve had much opposition to my affections. Many have spoken of how it is a selfish dream, a fanciful dream, a dream that will be unlikely to come true. But this is my choice.

Me and her against the world, and I wouldn’t have in any other way.